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Just a Toy
January 20th Mama looked at me with worry again. I can't say I know the reason why. Is it for my looks? I'm plain. My skin is colorless, my hair is light and thin... And the worry... It doesn't make sense. What would she be worried about? January 21st I've appeared somewhere new. It's a room, a big one, with faded fern walls and scattered stuffed rabbits on the floor. A child's room, perhaps. I have yet to see if any children actually live there, though. January 22nd A young girl appeared. She looks to be almost seven. Her hair is a mess of brunette curls, and her skin is brighter than parchment. Her stare is dead and always in the same direction. Why is she here? Why is a doll here in a room that isn't even mine? January 23rd The doctor came to the house today. Mother seemed concerned about the shot I was given, but Papa kept saying "it's for the best" under his breath. As soon as the purple injection entered my arm, I felt cold. Unnaturally cold. The doll was watching with awe, and when I touched it, it felt strangely warm. January 24th Something is wrong. My arm is feeling even colder, and now the coldness has spread to other areas. It's as if the blood has stopped flowing. Oddly enough, my skin is losing elasticity, and it's getting harder to bend my legs... January 25th The coldness is getting worse. Only my cheeks remain flushed. Mama keeps crying when she sees me, presumably because the doctor made me sick, but Papa keeps looking with a blank expression. He simply says to Mama, "it's better this way." The doll looks more lifelike each passing day. January 30th I can't bend my legs anymore. I'm bedridden. I can't use a bathroom on my own. Mama has to lift me. But just yesterday, she screamed and I fell. When I managed to look at myself, I was shocked. My leg was cracked. January 31st What's happening to me? My skin... It's hard. It's getting harder to open my mouth. I can barely move my lower half. I swear I'm shrinking. Mama doesn't come to the room anymore. Only Papa. He keeps looking on with a blank stare, as does the doll. The doll is starting to look more human than me. Sometimes, Papa says something so faintly that I can barely hear it. "Doll State." What does that mean? I'm scared. February 4th arms don't move anymore have to write with mouth can't stop convulsing hurts doll smiling at me hurting Doctor coming back Losing awareness February 15th Papa I need help I can't-- ... Thud. ... ???? The doctor grabbed his bag and left the room with a sad sigh. "It is done. Mr. Abernathy, I sincerely hope this is what you wanted." Mr. Abernathy smiled darkly. "Indeed. I thank you for your help." The doctor nodded. "Understood." He sighed again. "Your wife will not recover from this under normal conditions. She loved that little girl." Mr. Abernathy's smile became darker. "Perhaps she did. But she'll love Rose more. Won't she, darling?" A small girl appeared from Mr. Abernathy's back. Her skin was light like linen, her hair a mess of brunette curls. "...Um... yeah, Papa!" She responded with a nervous chirp. "Mama will love me again, right?" Mr. Abernathy laughed lightly. "Yes, I'm certain. Rose, darling, how about you busy yourself in the nursery for a while so that I may speak to the doctor?" Rose nodded and skipped to the room. It was different than what she remembered, and it now had faded fern walls. Rose smiled with joy as she saw all her rabbits had been collected neatly and placed on her bed. Guarding them was a porcelain doll with ivory skin and light hair. It looked a bit sad, but Rose was certain it would become happy when it met the rabbits. Papa most likely gave it to her. She would thank him at bedtime. As she began setting up a tea party for the new addition, Mr. Abernathy closed the door carefully as not to wake up his now-sedated wife. The doctor kept on a face of worry. "I must say, however, Mr. Abernathy..." He inquired. Mr. Abernathy looked at the doctor with slight annoyance. "Why did you turn Rose into a doll to begin with?" Mr. Abernathy laughed lightly again, but it seemed more sinister than last time. "The girl you injected a month before isn't exactly Rose, doctor. She would look drastically different today. What is in my house now is nothing more than a vessel for our daughter to come back to us in, no matter how long it would take. The girl you injected was simply a case for Rose, in a sense. You see..." The doctor gulped nervously. He realized what he had just done, having given the ultimate gift to a madman. "Rose died twenty years ago... and a parent will do anything to get back their child." Everythingslayer (talk) 02:50, October 22, 2018 (UTC) Category:Items/Objects Category:Mental Illness